The Beyond Nerima Cycle 1:
Tsubasa Kurenai: Would You Like To Swing On A Star...
By Rob Barba
Based on Rumiko Takahashi's _Ranma 1/2_

Note: this story takes place in the Beyond Nerima Cycle setting (commonly referred to as the _Tales of Shampoo_ continuity).


[The camera fades in, tunes into a well-dressed man sitting in a TV studio.]

    "Hi, I'm Jim Moret, thanks for tuning in to _Showbiz Today_.  We have in our studio today superstar 
Boz Kurenai, who's taken time out to talk with us about his new film.  Welcome to the studio, Boz."

[The camera focuses on the young man sitting next to Jim.  He's oriental, with long blonde hair freely 
flowing past his shoulders, and warm brown eyes.  He's sitting at ease in an Armani suit, and is playing off 
Moret like the experienced actor he is.]

"Thanks.  Good to be here."

"So, tell us about your new film.  It's certainly a stretch for you, isn't it?"

[Boz leans forward, with a practiced grin.]

"Well, yeah.  I mean, with all the comedy films that I've done over the last five years since making it big 
here in Tinseltown, sooner or later you're gonna want to break out of the typecasting, y'know?  Look at 
Micheal Keaton or Jamie Lee Curtis--early on in their careers, all they did was comedy or horror, 
respectively.  I'm hoping that my new film, _Opaque_, will break my own typecasting."

[Moret nods sagely, then looks at him, ready to pose that difficult question:]

"So, do you think audiences are ready to see Boz Kurenai playing alongside Winona Ryder, Sydney Poitier 
and Gary Sinese in an action film?  What's it about?"

"I play FBI agent Mike Kusanagi, who's on the trail of an White separatist assassin, played by Gary, who's 
plotting to kill the President, played by Sidney.  The terrorist's a master of disguise, and in order to get 
close to him, I have to close to his sister, played by Winona.  The movie was shot all over the US, and 
we're getting ready to wrap up filming of the LA scenes before we move to our location in New Orleans."

[Moret grins, then asks]

"So, grueling work, huh?"

"Slightly.  One of the things that my character has is a talent for deception and disguise.  Fortunately, I 
mastered the art of multiple costumes when I was younger, so changing disguises isn't that big a deal for 
me.  I think the hardest part was the gun training that I had to learn for the role--man, you won't believe 
how hard it is to shoot a double barrel shotgun with one hand."

"And how was it, working with your colleagues?"

"Sydney's an absolute master at his work--the man's so focused, you'd think he *was* the President.  
Gary's a fine actor, and a charm to work with, and Winona's an absolute bundle of energy, and her 
enthusiasm's infectious."

"And what about those other rumors we've been hearing in the news lately?"

[Boz waves his hands negligibly, as though he were trying to downplay the words even before they came 
out.]

"Oh, that I turned down the lead in _Great Expectations_?  Admittedly, while _People_ magazine voted me 
'One of Hollywood's Most Eligible Bachelors', I'm not the romantic lead type.  And on that note, the 
rumors linking me and Wendy Tsugumi are false.  She and I met through a mutual friend here in LA, but 
we're not really a couple or anything."

"So we'll be looking for your movie then in theatres next summer?"

"Yeah.  We're shooting for a June release."

"Thanks for taking time with us, Boz."

"Anytime, Jim."


    Tsubasa stepped out of the CNN studio, sliding out the back door to avoid the screaming fans, as they 
screamed, "Boz!  Boz!  We love you, Bozzie!"  Under escort by studio security, he hopped into his car, a 
blue 1995 Mitsubishi 3000 GT, loaded to the gills and a vanity license plate that simply said TSUBASA.  
Thanking the guard for his time, and signing a quick autograph, he drove off, headed towards the 
downtown set.
    The phone in his car rang, and with a tap of a button, he answers.  "Yello."
   "Heya Boz," a gravelly voice spoke over the connection.  "It's Tommy."
    {{Damn.  My agent.  One of these days, I'm gonna have to fire him,}} the young man thought to 
himself, though he decides not to put it into words.  "You know, I really didn't care for that interview, 
Tom.  I hate lying."
    "Boz, Boz, Boz.  This ain't Tokyo, man, this is the big time.  You're a name now, a big'un.  Girls swoon 
all over your picture.  Man, you're the next Brad Pitt."
    "Right.  Sure."
    "I'm tellin ya, you are *it*.  You are now.  You are hot, man with a capital HOT.  Anyways, that's not 
why I called."
    "Why did you call then?" Tsubasa replied, trying hard to keep the anger out of his voice.
    "You know that rinky-dink little artsy film they're shooting in Northern California?  That Japanese 
Knight film?"
    "That's 'samurai drama', Tommy.  What about it?"
    "You got the part.  I told the director what you wanted me to, and he was thrilled.  Though I still don't 
understand why you're willing to work for base pay on this one."
    {{And you never will, either, you greedy bastard.}}  Tsubasa almost snarled the words, his mind so 
filled with vitriol towards his sleazeball of an agent.   "Call it my devotion to the arts and a need to give 
back to the community."
    "Yeah, whatever.  I just wanted to tell you that you got the part.  I'll have the contract Fed Ex'd to you at 
the New Orleans shoot, cool?"
    "Yeah.  Catcha later, Tom."
   "Take care o' yourself and stay away from the gumbo, Boz."  The phone clicked off, but before Tsubasa 
reached for the stereo, the phone rings out again.  "Hiya."
    "Hey Boz, this is Winona.  Wolfgang wanted me to call you and let you know that shooting's stalled for 
the next two days--Sydney's caught a bad cold, and it's got him bedridden.  So we have the weekend off."
    "Thanks for the news, Win."  If the young lady could have seen through the phone line, she would have 
seen his face break into a wide grin.  "I know just what I plan to do with the time, too."
    "Good to hear it.  As for me, I'm spending it playing couch potato--I'm beat.  I think Gary's going 
camping in the mountains with his family, but I'm not sure.  In any case, I just wanted to call and tell you 
that before you arrived at the set.  Oh--how'd the CNN interview go?"
    "Jim Moret's a putz, just like you said."  He heard her giggle over the line, then continue.
    "Told ya.  Well, I'll see you Monday then."
    "Hasta."  Again he tapped the button to hang up, but his finger never got more than an inch away from 
the phone before he taps it active again.  "Boz."
    "Tsubasa.  Lunch.  Hard Rock.  1230.  I've made the reservations."  The voice was unmistakably female, 
and furthermore, pissed.  Although he knew few people in the US who called him by his full name, only 
once person held that voice--and the balls to order him around like that, just as she tended to do to a lot of 
others she knew.
    "Okay, Nabiki.  1230 it is."  With no further ado, he hung up, turned off the phone, and headed towards 
downtown LA.  Even he, Tsubasa Kurenai, famous celebrity and all, knew better than to get on the wrong 
side of Nabiki Kuno.

                                       {}={}

    "So, Nabiki," Tsubasa commented in Japanese as he set down his fork, "eating just a little too much, are 
we?"  He gazed in wonder at the spread in front of her: two cheeseburgers, a spinach and chicken dip, a 
club sandwich, and three strawberry milkshakes.
    "I'm eating for two, remember?"  She replied in kind, then took a vicious chomp out of her 
cheeseburger, nearly downing it in one shot.
    "Didn't know.  Congrats for you and Tatewaki."
    "Thanks."  She then fixed an angry glare at him.  "But I didn't call you for lunch just to tell you that."
    "So you saw the interview, huh?"
    "Don't you just hate live TV?" She paused for a second to take a lengthy sip from her milkshake before 
screaming, *"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT 'WE'RE JUST FRIENDS' ROUTINE, TSUBASA?"*
    "Nabiki, I--"
    "You said it last week at dinner, you callous bastard," she said, her voice a harsh whisper, which scared 
Tsubasa even more.  She dipped a fry into her ketchup, then waved at him accusingly, snarling, "You told 
Wendy you loved her.  I was there, remember, so don't deny it.  Now, you go and lie in front of an 
international audience?"
    "I...it was my agent who told me to say that, Nabiki!" he cried, his voice rising as well.  "Did you think I 
wanted to say that?  I'm Tsubasa Kurenai, Academy Award-nominated actor, and my rep's on the line.  Do 
you think that my publicist is thrilled that I'm not dating some third-grade schoolteacher in South El Monte 
instead of some airhead Beverly Hills starlet?  Hmm?"
    "So, you're ashamed of what Wendy does for a living?" Nabiki quietly roared.
    "Stop putting words in my mouth, will ya?" he commented, taking another bite of his salmon and 
spinach salad.  "I think it's great!  Why would I think otherwise?  She loves her job, right?  Why would I 
not?"
    "Because she doesn't make okinomiyaki, right?"  Nabiki accused.  "Because she's not in love with 
Ranma Saotome."
    "Leave Ukyo out of this, Nabiki."  Tsubasa's anger began to flare just as much as his lunch date's.  "It's 
been years, now, and we're different people.  She had a kid with that other guy.  I took my life in a different 
direction.  We're no longer the same."
    "And yet you still love her, after all these years, and poor Wendy's suffering for it."
    "I'll admit--I'm still attracted to Ukyo.  But I was a blind idiot back in those days, Nabiki.  I was chasing 
just about any girl that moved, hoping to get their attention...hoping to get them to love me.  It took me a 
few years to realize that I had to love myself before I could ever earn another's love.  Once I did that, I 
turned full-force to my acting, and that carried me to where I am, now."
    Nabiki gave him another of her trademark frosted glares.  "And what do you hope to gain by your 
comments?  Will all the women in the world make you happy?"
    "No," he quietly admitted, staring at the remains of his salad.
   "Would you still go after Ukyo, if you had the chance?" Nabiki pressed, at least minimizing her anger, 
and instead focusing on the point that she was trying to make.
    "At one time, maybe.  Maybe I would have, and maybe in a small sense, I still do.  But Ukyo's got a 
child now, and while that wouldn't be a problem, the fact is that she loved the guy enough to have a child 
with him before he died.  I can't win against a ghost, Nabiki, nor would I even try.
    "Furthermore, she and I lead different lives now.  She's happy with her restaurants, and the way she 
lives.  People like you and me wouldn't be comfortable in Japan again, am I right?  Somewhere along the 
way, we got too Americanized, and the land of our birth is no longer where we belong.  I can't see myself 
ever returning to live in Tokyo again, and she wouldn't be happy living in my place in Encino.  She's not 
the type of person that could be a Cali like you or me, and I'll never be a Tokyo kid again.
    "That's the short of it, but in the end it boils down to this: Ukyo and I are just too different.  Someday in 
the future, we may be friends again, but that's about it.  We're nothing but memories now, nothing more 
and most likely never again."
    "Nice to hear you've grown up," Nabiki said in a neutral tone, finishing off the last of her third 
milkshake, "but that still doesn't explain why you've hurt Wendy.  If you're lucky, she doesn't know, and 
you can come up with some sort of excuse to cover it.  If she saw that, my friend, you're doomed as 
doomed can be."
    Tsubasa nodded solemnly.  "And I deserve it, too."  He sighed, and Nabiki saw for a second a trace of 
the old, swooning cross-dresser of old.  "I do love her, Nabiki, and I don't know why I let Tommy talk me 
into that--I've certainly ignored his so-called advice plenty of times, and I'm on the verge of firing him, 
anyway."
    "Then fix it," she told him.  "Fix it before you fuck it up irreparably."  She looked at him sagely, then 
added, "Oh, and fire that agent of yours.  He's in no position to tell you how to run your love life, Tsubasa.  
If you let him, then you'll sink down to the same levels you did back in Nerima."
    He smiled.  "Thanks, Nabiki.  I gotta get a hold of her before it's too late."
    "Well, don't sit here on my account," she said, smiling.  "You have a relationship to run."
    He leapt out of his seat, crying, "Thanks again, Nabiki.  You gave me a dose of reality when I needed it."
    "Hey, we Nerima ex-pats have to stick together, ne?"
    "That we do, that we do.  I'll get the bill on the way out."
    "Don't bother.  I already paid."  Seeing the stunned look on his face, she winked and said, switchng to 
English, "You're not the only one who's changed over the years, Tsubasa.  Both Tatewaki and I had some 
growing up to do as well.  One of the things I've learned was that taking care of your friends means they'll 
take care of you."  She then pointed towards the door and said, "Move it, Mr. Big Movie Star, before you 
miss out on the role of your life."
    She didn't have to say it twice.  He was out the door before anyone could stop him for an autograph.

                                      {}={}

    During the drive down the Westbound 60 towards South El Monte, his mind was a morass of confusion 
and chaos.  He switched down through several radio stations, but something was just not clicking.  After a 
second or two, he skipped that, opting for the 10-disc CD player.  He went through Spyro Gyra, the Stone 
Temple Pilots, Ace of Base, Enya, De La Soul, Shonen Knife, Puff Daddy, Brandy, and Led Zepplin, all 
without really finding something that set his mood.  Finally, he shut off the stereo, preferring to drive in the 
silence, marked only by the hum of the engine.  There was nothing he could hear that could match the 
discomfort he felt at the moment.
    He, in one stupid moment of listening to an agent he rarely listened to, trashed a beautiful relationship.  
He'd been dating Wendy for two years now, and he did love her--he'd meant every word he'd admitted to 
her when they were having dinner with the Kunos in Santa Monica last week.  He enjoyed every minute 
he'd ever spent with her, starting from the day he was asked by Tate and Nabiki to MC the Kuno 
Foundation's Award for Outstanding Teachers (Wendy had won in the Elementary School category) 
ceremony, to the party afterwards, where he'd been captivated by her.
    Since then, they'd spent tons of time together, and he spent as much time at her place as she had at his.  
He'd taken pains not to expose her to the paparazzi, though he'd stopped by her work many a time, doing 
many comedy shows (Bill Cosby-style, of course) for the faculty and students.  The staff at New Temple 
Elementary just loved having him around, but more importantly, *she* loved having him around...and he 
loved being around her.
    It was then, he realized, that he truly loved her.  He really, truly loved her.  Not in that schoolboy way 
that he'd loved--and still did--Kuonji Ukyo, but loved in that way that simply said he wanted, needed to 
spend the rest of his life with her.  Ukyo was a dream to him, a fond--and ocassionally wet--dream; Wendy 
was his reality.
    As he drove through the city of Montebello, on his way to his goal, he swerved his car, getting off at the 
Town Center offramp, making a beeline for the mall.  He had to get out of this damn Armani.  This suit and 
smile was megastar Boz Kurenai, not the jeans and T-shirt Tsubasa Kurenai that Wendy loved.  And the 
person in the expensive suit was the whole problem, wasn't it?  Tsubasa wasn't afraid to do acting jobs that 
expanded his horizons, imagie be damned; he should have the same attitude towards his personal life, 
which in the end was a whole hell of a lot more important.
    His image got him into this mess.  His maturity--and a little thanks to his friends--would get him out.

                                     {}={}

    An hour since he'd left the Wilshire district, Tsubasa arrived at his girlfriend's place, turning off Maxon 
Road, down onto Remer Street, and driving halfway down the block before pulling into the driveway in 
front of a cozy yellow house.  A nice little suburban home, it was perfect for the average third grade 
teacher, and typical of this holdover  mostly Hispanic community nestled at the edge of the San Gabriel 
valley.  Her '95 VW Fox was in the open garage, it's forest green contrasting with Tsubasa's car; to be 
honest, his powertoy looked very out of place amongst the trucks, economy cars, minivans, and the 
occasional East LA-style Low Rider.  He got out of the car, feeling very nervous, knowing that the next 
few minutes would probably be the most important of his life.  Now more comfortably dressed in a LA 
Galaxy soccer shirt, Levis, and jeans, he took a second or two to tie off his long locks into a ponytail--
Wendy hated his long hair, but was willing to put up with it if it was in a tail.
    Trying to take his mind off the jitters, he took a second to call out to Wendy's neighbor, Mrs. Garza, who 
was outside washing her car.  An older lady in her mid-40s and a fellow teacher at Wendy's school, she 
seemed to have that calm in a storm attitude that Tsubasa wished he had sometimes.
    "Hi, Lupe."
    "Oh, hiya, Boz.    Saw that interview you did on TV.  S'a good thing you did, too."
    "Huh?"  Tsubasa looked completely perplexed.
    The older woman smiled.  "I mean, telling them that to keep those camera hounds off our backs.  This 
neighborhood's not cut out for that kinda stuff, and Wendy's not that kind of girl.  I have to admit, you 
sounded so convincing when you said there's no relationship."
    {{And I hope she believes that, too.}}  "Well, Lupe," he said, deciding to straddle the line and while not 
lie to the woman, not reveal that he'd fucked up, either, "I'd hate to see all this messed up.  Everything 
seems so peaceful here, and that's how it should be."
    The woman sagely nodded, then turned back to tending to her Ford.  Tsubasa turned and went up, 
knocking on the door.  He had a key, but he didn't want to chance it.  Not now, when it was so important.


    "Just a minute," a voice called out, its tones musical and soft.  He heard the metal slither of a deadbolt 
being undone, followed by the sound of a conventional lock being turned.
    A split second later, Wendy Tsugumi opened the door.  He looked at her, taking in the beauty that she 
was, the beauty that had attracted him to her long before she'd caught his full heart.  She was your average 
Japanese-American, with long black hair, matching dark eyes, and a somewhat androgynous face...or at 
least that's what most would think.  In truth, though, Wendy was a very close visual match to Ukyo, the 
only differences being the voice, personality, and dressing standards; Wendy was more feminine than 
Tsubasa's flame.  It had been her Ukyoesque looks that had caught his initial attention, but it had been her 
Wendyness that had captured his heart.
    She spoke, bringing him back to his senses.  "Tsubasa?  What are you doing here, sweetheart?  I thought 
you were shooting today.  And why knock?  Did you forget your keys?"
    He smiled at her.  "One of the cast got sick, so shooting's cancelled for this weekend.  I was thinking 
about us spending the weekend in Palm Springs, if you're up to it.  I called and reserved a room at the 
Sheraton."
    She took him and kissed him gently, saying, "Of course I'd love to.  It beats sitting around here, and I 
really don't feel like visiting my mother this weekend."  Tsubasa couldn't blame her for that; Wendy's 
mother Himiko constantly waxed about how different it was between the Nerima of the 50s where she grew 
up and Tsubasa's Nerima of the 80s.
    "Okay.  My stuff's already packed; I'll use the bag I was gonna take on the New Orleans shoot."  
Fortunately, Tommy was good for *some* things; one thing the lardball had drilled into Tsubasa was that 
he should be ready for anything.
    "By the way," Wendy told him, "I saw you on TV."  He froze, unsure of how to react.  "Your comments, 
in front of everyone, hurt me, Tsubasa, they really did.  We've been together for two years, and for you to 
say that to the world, that we're not a couple, it was painful and frightening."  
    He was at a loss of words.  What could he say?  She was right--he had hurt her without trying to, all 
because he hadn't bothered to think.  He deserved it if she told him that he was to march right out of her 
house and her life.  And that, he realized, hurt him.  {{There's no way I can do that.  I love her.  You'd 
better hope she forgives you,}} his mind berated him, {{or you'll never, ever, forgive yourself.  And you'll 
never earn that right to forgiveness.}}
    As his soliloquy of self-derision went on, she continued.  "Then I realized something.  You would never 
hurt me.  You've never taken me to those big Hollywood parties, because you want to protect me from 
those Hollywood-types."  She leaned into him, snuggling against his chest.  "You said that because you 
wanted to protect me.  You're an actor, Tsubasa--I should have realized that casual tone in your voice was 
simply acting, and not how you really felt."  She looked him in the eyes, then said, "I owe you an apology, 
sweetheart.  Please say you'll forgive me."
    Tsubasa stared into Wendy's eyes, and for the last time in his life, imagined them as Ukyo's.  No, Ukyo 
couldn't/wouldn't look at him like that, and now he knew that he would never want her to.  He banished 
her to the back of his mind, a ghost of a memory that would now be forever locked away.  {{From this 
moment on, it's only you, Wendy.}}  "Only if you'll forgive me.  I should have done this earlier."  He 
reached into his pocket and pulled out a jewelry box.
    She opened it and her eyes grew wide.  She looked at him for a second in shock, then kissed him like 
he'd never been kissed before.  When she pulled back, she spoke one breathless, heartfelt word: "Yes."
    Tsubasa tried to keep his composure.  {{What was that all about?  Not that I'm complaining, mind you, 
but....}}  It was only a ring, some nice little diamond and gold number to make up for his insensitivity, a 
mere impulse while he was shopping for a change of clothes at the mall.  Hell, he'd bought her that while 
he was picking up a new stud for his pierced ear.  He took a look at the ring, and realized why she'd reacted 
the way she did.
    It was no ordinary ring-it was an engagement ring, and not the one he'd been looking at either.  He 
must've pointed at the wrong one when he told the jeweler, "I'll take that one."  But then again, was that 
really the case?  Was it all a mixup?
    {{Or is my subconscious trying to tell me something that my active mind's been ignoring all this 
time?}}  If that was the case, he'd berate himself later for his Ranma-like attitudes.  Whatever the case, her 
reaction was one that should have been natural...and a reaction to something he should have been asking 
her.
    {{I love her.  I want her in my life.  I might not have intended this, but I sure as hell want it, and if that's 
the case, so be it.}}  He took the ring out of the box, and slipped it on her finger, saying, "This is no acting 
when I say that I love you, Wendy Tsugumi-"
    "You mean, Wendy Kurenai," she said in a hopeful, sunny tone.
    "Yes, and the sooner, the better," he finished.
    She kissed him again, saying, "Let me go pack for the weekend, love.  We can spend the weekend 
beginning to make all our plans, shall we?"  He nodded, and she slipped back into his arms, cooing, "I so 
truly love you, Tsubasa Kurenai."
    "And I so dearly love you, Wendy Tsu-I mean, Mrs. Kurenai."  She slipped out of his arms, giggling 
like a girl half her age, then headed to her bedroom to pack.
    As for Tsubasa, his heart swelled with something he'd not felt in the longest time: contentment.  Life 
was great, and he knew that no matter what, his Wendy would always be by his side.  It took him years and 
a trip to the other side of the world, but Tsubasa Kurenai had found peace.  {{Now, for one last detail,}} he 
thought as he picked up Wendy's phone and began dialing.
    A voice answered at the other end.  "Hello, Talented Minds Agency.  Tommy Gunderson speaking.  
What can I do for you?"
    "Tommy, this is Boz."
    "Hey Boz-man, what can I do for you?"
    "One thing: you're fired."  Tsubasa hung up the phone, then sighed in contentment.
    Life was perfect.

                                  FIN